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rainbowfic2015-08-03 03:51 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-08-03 03:51 pm
Alien Green 12
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_njo79eRH6W1u25b0bo1_540.png.html), Novelty Beads (http://i538.photobucket.com/albums/ff348/subluxate/Rainbow%20Modding/YES.gif)
Characters: Spenser (POV), Piston
Colors: Alien Green 12 (Yeah, it's all right. My ass broke the fall.)
Word Count: 600ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Sharing is caring. Hypothetically.
Note: Dead Time was a wild ride from start to finish. <3
Piston invited me over to her house for absolutely no reason, with no particular plan. We sat around shooting the shit and watching TV for a while, and then she decided she wanted to try making cookies, with those half-assed cookie instructions you find on some cake mix boxes. The mix in question was bright orange, and smelled like fruity cereal, which sounded fantastic to me, so I was more excited about cake mix than a grownass man has any real right to be.
Anyway, Piston stood at the counter doing that, while I sat at the kitchen table, making a nuisance of myself.
“If you had a vacuum cleaner that, like, spat shit out instead of sucking it up, what would you do with it?”
She turned around, and gesticulated with her spoon. A crumb of orange dough fell on the floor.
“Jesus, I don’t know! What would it even have to spit out? Where would it come from?”
One of the cats wound around Piston’s legs, crept over to the crumb, sniffed it, and licked it off the tiles. The dog, who had been sitting in the doorway, realized there was floor-food to be had, and went over to the counter to wait.
“Probably, like, another dimension or something… Hey, your dog wants some dough.”
Without missing a beat, she scraped up a good chunk with the spoon, then plopped it on the floor. The dog devoured it happily, with one long flick of the tongue, lizard-style. My brain had already run ahead of reality, and I was imagining all the ways this scenario could play out, quietly snickering to myself.
“…Spense, the hell you laughin’ at?”
“What if your dad’s goats want some?”
She turned back around, started putting cookie-balls on cookie-sheets.
“Then they can wait until the cookies are, like, baked! I ain‘t goin‘ out there in the middle of a project to give dough to goats.”
I leaned forward in the hard chair, sprawling out on the table.
“Piston?”
This time, she didn’t turn around.
“Yeah?”
“What if we go to the park and the squirrels want some?”
Laughing, she popped the first batch in the oven.
“Then I guess I’ll give some to the squirrels!”
I sat up, tilted backward slightly.
“What if we’re walkin’ home and the pigeons want some!?”
This went on for a while, me tipping back and forth on the chair, thinking of different animals we could encounter, and asking her what she’d do if they wanted cookies. By the time I started running out of ideas, the last batch was in the oven, and Piston was sitting on the counter, cracking a beer.
“Piston?”
“Oh my god, what now!?”
I brought the legs down on the hard floor with a satisfying boom.
“…What if I want some?”
“You can have some when you shut up, jeeze!”
Of course, I knew I was getting some the whole time, because the whole reason she was making cookies in the first place was so we could go back to the living room and eat them, but my brain still interpreted this as exciting news. I threw up my hands in triumph.
“Alright!”
Except, I’d conveniently forgotten that I was leaning back in the chair again, ready to come in for another boom. And I guess I did, but in the wrong direction. The chair tipped, and I fell backwards, smacking my head on the fridge. Piston looked shocked, then started laughing at my misery. Oh, fuck you, you goddamn adorable sociopath.
“…You okay?”
“Yeah. I didn’t fall on nothin’ that ain’t been busted before.”
Now, busted as I was, we were laughing together.
The timer on the oven finally beeped.
starphotographsStory: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_njo79eRH6W1u25b0bo1_540.png.html), Novelty Beads (http://i538.photobucket.com/albums/ff348/subluxate/Rainbow%20Modding/YES.gif)
Characters: Spenser (POV), Piston
Colors: Alien Green 12 (Yeah, it's all right. My ass broke the fall.)
Word Count: 600ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Sharing is caring. Hypothetically.
Note: Dead Time was a wild ride from start to finish. <3
Piston invited me over to her house for absolutely no reason, with no particular plan. We sat around shooting the shit and watching TV for a while, and then she decided she wanted to try making cookies, with those half-assed cookie instructions you find on some cake mix boxes. The mix in question was bright orange, and smelled like fruity cereal, which sounded fantastic to me, so I was more excited about cake mix than a grownass man has any real right to be.
Anyway, Piston stood at the counter doing that, while I sat at the kitchen table, making a nuisance of myself.
“If you had a vacuum cleaner that, like, spat shit out instead of sucking it up, what would you do with it?”
She turned around, and gesticulated with her spoon. A crumb of orange dough fell on the floor.
“Jesus, I don’t know! What would it even have to spit out? Where would it come from?”
One of the cats wound around Piston’s legs, crept over to the crumb, sniffed it, and licked it off the tiles. The dog, who had been sitting in the doorway, realized there was floor-food to be had, and went over to the counter to wait.
“Probably, like, another dimension or something… Hey, your dog wants some dough.”
Without missing a beat, she scraped up a good chunk with the spoon, then plopped it on the floor. The dog devoured it happily, with one long flick of the tongue, lizard-style. My brain had already run ahead of reality, and I was imagining all the ways this scenario could play out, quietly snickering to myself.
“…Spense, the hell you laughin’ at?”
“What if your dad’s goats want some?”
She turned back around, started putting cookie-balls on cookie-sheets.
“Then they can wait until the cookies are, like, baked! I ain‘t goin‘ out there in the middle of a project to give dough to goats.”
I leaned forward in the hard chair, sprawling out on the table.
“Piston?”
This time, she didn’t turn around.
“Yeah?”
“What if we go to the park and the squirrels want some?”
Laughing, she popped the first batch in the oven.
“Then I guess I’ll give some to the squirrels!”
I sat up, tilted backward slightly.
“What if we’re walkin’ home and the pigeons want some!?”
This went on for a while, me tipping back and forth on the chair, thinking of different animals we could encounter, and asking her what she’d do if they wanted cookies. By the time I started running out of ideas, the last batch was in the oven, and Piston was sitting on the counter, cracking a beer.
“Piston?”
“Oh my god, what now!?”
I brought the legs down on the hard floor with a satisfying boom.
“…What if I want some?”
“You can have some when you shut up, jeeze!”
Of course, I knew I was getting some the whole time, because the whole reason she was making cookies in the first place was so we could go back to the living room and eat them, but my brain still interpreted this as exciting news. I threw up my hands in triumph.
“Alright!”
Except, I’d conveniently forgotten that I was leaning back in the chair again, ready to come in for another boom. And I guess I did, but in the wrong direction. The chair tipped, and I fell backwards, smacking my head on the fridge. Piston looked shocked, then started laughing at my misery. Oh, fuck you, you goddamn adorable sociopath.
“…You okay?”
“Yeah. I didn’t fall on nothin’ that ain’t been busted before.”
Now, busted as I was, we were laughing together.
The timer on the oven finally beeped.